I am like a crumpled piece of paper

I lie on the floor

waiting,

hoping,

wishing

to be picked up

by someone who will

open me,

unwrap me,

who won’t pass me up.

I wait here for someone to read

all of my experiences and stories,

so I don’t have to store them within me.

I cannot plead

for someone to come to me.

For I can’t talk or move,

I’m stuck here with no way to choose.

So I wait here, lonely

for someone to set me free

from my prison on the ground

where I am always kicked around

just wishing to be found.

There are those who are curious enough

to decide to pick me up.

As soon as they open me up

they will find the huge surprise

of a fascinating story scribbled inside.

A story about me, my life,

the struggles and the strife,

and the smiles and the delight.

I am a crumpled piece of paper.

While I am neglected by many,

I am still loved by plenty.